


Atychiphobia

by PhantomGrimalkin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, Gore (ish), Horror, Inspired by Fanfiction, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2720639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomGrimalkin/pseuds/PhantomGrimalkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After going through Hell, the Avengers each find themselves alone (or close enough to it) in a truly hopeless situation.</p><p>A sequel/continuation/fanfiction based on Mikkenekko's Labyrinth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atychiphobia

**Author's Note:**

> Atychiphobia- Fear of failure
> 
> This will not make sense until you read [Labyrinth](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2356349/chapters/5199692) by [Mikkeneko](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikkeneko/pseuds/Mikkeneko). Which I suggest you do anyways. Obviously.
> 
> I couldn't really stand the way that fic ended, and I couldn't rest until I got this out. Somewhat literally, I had a hard time sleeping last night and I should've been in bed 50 minutes ago. I don't get much time to write, as you may be able to tell.

Bruce fingered the flares in his hand as he watched the others retreat, the light disappearing far more quickly than it should have. One hand was on Thor's arm, he tried not to clutch at it but he couldn't shake the idea that keeping hold of Thor was of the utmost importance. He justified it that he was keeping track of the god's too weak pulse. Which, in fairness, he was. He clung to that pulse like a lifeline, the only thing keeping him from being utterly alone with a corpse in the place that would most likely be his grave.

It had been years since he had truly been alone. He had spent so much time hating the Hulk to realize that he had become a constant companion. It had also been years since he had truly been at risk of dying. It had been just as long since he had truly felt his strongest emotions. Every time they overtook him, Hulk took over to save him from himself.

Bruce counted the beats, each one a reminder that he wasn't alone. All was not lost.

The light disappeared, darkness fell, and Bruce continued fingering the flares in his hands. In theory, he had 12 hours of light. He should have enough time to keep it lit, stay in the light until they save the day and find him. In theory, none of what had happened today should have happened. Bruce squeezed the flares and left them unlit. Save them for later.

It wasn't long before Bruce started voicing his internal monologue. To reassure Thor, he rationalized. Deep down, he knew it was out of habit. The echoing silence in his mind was too much. He had been able to ignore it before, focused on the danger ahead. Now, sitting in the complete darkness and silence that was punctured by horrible, but gratefully soft, noises, the internal silence was more oppressive than his surroundings.

Over time, his eyes somewhat adjusted. He could just barely make out the outline of his own hands and Thor (or perhaps he was only imagining it, his brain filling in what it knew to be there just to break the monotony). Eventually he ended up leaning on Thor, his ear pressed to the god's chest. The sound of ragged breathing and faint heartbeat was better than nothing. There was even some warmth to be felt, although not nearly enough.

He tried to keep some sense of time, but it was impossible. He imagined that enough time had passed that the team had made it back to where they had started. Maybe they had gotten farther. The flares felt heavy, he toyed with the idea of lighting one just to see, but held off. He talked about this with Thor. If the god had any input, he was unable to voice it. Privately, Bruce hoped that Thor had managed to fall asleep. He deserved to escape this madness somehow.

Some time later, he felt something brush against him. Multiple somethings. Bruce tensed, his hand going to Natasha's gun and contemplating the flare. He could just barely make out humanoid figures, although again it might have been his brain playing tricks on him. Initially he heard no sounds, and the sensations ceased quickly.

In the midst of convincing himself he was going mad, he heard it.

_Scrape_ .

Bruce felt his blood run cold. Even if he could have escaped, he had no hope of moving Thor. All he could do was pray that the behemoth happened to be headed in another direction and moved straight past them.

_Scrape. Scrape_ .

Why did they even leave him with the gun? Everyone knew what the true danger in this place was, the gun was worthless.

_Scrape_ .

Unless...

_Scrape._

Unless they didn't mean for him to use it on the enemies.

_Scrape. Scrape_ .

He held the gun in his hand, but found himself lighting the flare instead. He refused to look in the direction of the noise, instead looking at Thor. There had been no change in all the time that had passed, beyond the blood drying. The god's eyes were closed, and for a moment Bruce wondered if he had actually died and Bruce had just been kidding himself about not being alone. The ground shook and Thor's face contorted slightly and Bruce breathed a sigh of relief.

He wasn't alone. He was still fighting for something.

Bruce stood up, stretching as he did, feeling an odd calm. The Hulk was closer than he had expected, already within the light of the flare. Not quite within grabbing distance, Bruce could still run, but Thor was done for if he did. With a frown, he realized that the scraping noise had stopped. Bruce finally brought himself to look up at the creature, his stomach churning as he did. The chains were still there, hooks jutting out, the cruel choke collar, the massive stones that weren't enough to stop him and only further fueled his rage. Blood streaked down the painfully contorted body, and Bruce knew that not all of it was Hulk's. Yet the Hulk was just... standing there, glaring at him. After a moment, Bruce managed to look Hulk straight in the eyes, bewildered that he was even getting the chance to look. To no surprise, the eyes were filled with pain and rage. What he wasn't expecting was recognition.

That wasn't possible. Hulk was a mindless rage machine without Bruce to guide him. He had attacked them earlier. _No, he attacked Thor only after Thor had attacked him_. His mind reeled.

The Hulk let out a mournful bellow, but didn't move. He continued just standing there, glaring at Bruce. For a long moment, they stood like that, until Hulk let out another roar and stamped his front hand. This pulled the chains slightly and the Hulk winced before glaring at Bruce again.

Something clicked in his subconscious and he began walking towards the creature despite the fear screaming at him not to do anything so stupid. He stopped in front of Hulk, bracing for a blow that never came. The creature just continued staring at him. Bruce placed a hand on a patch of undamaged shoulder and the Hulk closed his eyes. The proximity and touch allowed Bruce to realize that the Hulk was shivering and his stomach churned again.

Bruce cast a glance towards Thor. He was still in the light, farther than Bruce would have liked but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't risk having the Hulk move, spurning his rage again. It may have been impossible to calm it again. He couldn't drag Thor, the god was simply too heavy. Bruce finally set the flare down in a crack in the rock, slipping the other one in his pocket.

“I don't know what I can do, but I'll try,” he said quietly. The fear screaming in his head was abating, and his rational mind was finally making the _right_ connections. “And I can promise you that you won't be alone in the dark anymore.”

Hulk's eyes shot open at that, and his throat grumbled in a deep moan.

Bruce sighed, looking at the closest meat hook. Well, it could be worse. He wasn't about to think of _how_ , after all he'd seen he was unwilling to put it past this place to change when he did. He took a deep breath.

“Please...” he paused, biting his lip and trying to ensure this would work, Hulk watched him carefully, “Please, _very very slowly_ , move back.” Hulk grunted at that, refusing to budge. “I know... Not enough to hurt yourself, but there's too much tension on these chains, if you shift back I might be able to remove them.”

_This is never going to work, I can't reason with him at the best of times_ . Bruce chastised himself, the fear again finding a foothold in his mind. Then, Hulk began shifting. At first he did so too quickly, the choke chain biting into him and evoking a deep bellow. Bruce froze, knowing he had no hope if the Hulk returned to his rage, but all Hulk did was pause and try again at a slower pace.

“That's good!” Bruce yelped, before calming himself and placing a hand on the contorted shoulder again, “That's enough, you did good.”

Hulk attempted what could have been a nod before wincing. For a moment, Bruce wondered if he was tired. This was very likely the longest Hulk had ever been out, and while Hulk seemed to have unending stamina- even Steve had his limits. 

Bruce sighed, turning his attention to the first meat hook. The memory of the chain reattaching itself crept into his mind and his stomach churned. There was no guarantee this would work. Assuming that these worked like regular meat hooks (a dangerous assumption in this place, but one he needed), it was likely that if the first one worked, all others would.

“Okay, I'm going to try removing this hook,” Bruce said quietly, “I... I don't know what will happen. I'm sorry.” 

Finally, he actually touched the blood stained hook, sighing when he saw that the blood was starting to congeal around it, fusing it to the skin. Of course it was. He considered glancing back at the flare, or at Thor, but there was nothing he could do for either of them. 

With a silent prayer to any divinity who might exist and be listening, he worked the hook out. It wasn't terribly difficult, not that Bruce had expected it to be. Bruce stood there, staring between the hook and the puncture would. Another moment passed and the Hulk's healing factor kicked in, the skin fusing itself together. A low rumble emanated from Hulk's chest. The hook stayed in his hand. Bruce bit his lip. Even if they only stayed out as long as he held htem, there was no way he could remove all the hooks  _and_ hold them all. The risk was too great. So, he walked to the Hulk's side, fingers trailing over undamaged skin as a reassurance, and placed the hook on the ground.

It sat there.

Bruce waited, staring at it. It didn't move. He closed his eyes, remembering how this place sometimes worked. When he opened them again, it was still there. Bruce didn't dare consider why. He didn't dare be thankful for small miracles.

“I think you know just how crazy this place is,” Bruce said, turning to the next closest hook, “I can't promise you anything.”

Although each hook was easy enough to remove, there were just so many of them. Gradually, Bruce became accustomed to the task and found himself again voicing his internal monologue. To his surprise, that seemed to help Hulk calm down further. Part of him was still waiting for the hooks to leap back, seize upon Hulk, and for that reason he decided to leave a few of the ones causing the least damage. Each wound healed not long after the hook was removed, until gradually the expanses of unmarred skin were the majority and it was almost possible to ignore the cruel hooks. He had removed enough that the Hulk was able to lay his head down, and the monster did so more gingerly than Bruce would have thought him capable of. 

The ease of the hooks also didn't fix the problem of the shackles or choke collar. Bruce concerned himself with the choke collar first, unsurprised that there was no easy way to remove it. Even with the proper tools... In this place, who knew. Bruce probably wouldn't have even attempted it, not that he had any choice.

Removing most of the hooks seemed to be enough. The Hulk seemed perfectly content with being able to just lay down his head and stop moving. 

Bruce began walking over to Thor to check on the god, evoking a furious, panicked roar from the Hulk. He froze, turning to the monster who had lifted his head to return to glaring at Bruce.

“I'm just going to check on Thor,” he said quietly, “You can see me, I'm right here.”

Hulk followed him with his eyes, then furrowed his brows when he saw Thor. With a grunt he gestured to the body as much as he could. Bruce looked over at him for a moment. “You recognize Thor? He's an Avenger, your teammate.” Hulk gave a pained wine and gestured again, more urgently. Bruce frowned. “Are you worried you hurt him?” Hulk stopped moving then. “This wasn't you.” At that, Hulk settled himself back down as best as he could. 

When Bruce approached Thor, he realized that the flare was growing dimmer. When Thor had been fully in the light, his body was now half in shadows. Bruce sighed, he would have to light the other flare soon. If it went out, that was it. What an odd way to end his life. He certainly hadn't seen it coming. 

After being satisfied that there had been no change in Thor's state, Bruce sat down next to the Hulk and watched the flare. He wanted to wait until the last possible moment to light the second, savoring every moment of light. 

As the flare flickered out, darkness didn't fall. With a frown, Bruce stood up and looked around. They were surrounded by fog, as they had been when they'd entered the town. 

“I don't understand,” he muttered quietly. Hulk began shifting beside him, whether due to the fog or Bruce's reaction was unclear. The town felt different now, he realized, the hatred Natasha had spoken of was gone. Hulk seemed to realize this as well, as he wrenched his arm sharply, snapping the chain. The other end fell lifeless to the ground. With a roar of victory, Hulk tore the remaining chains. The shackles and collar remained, but they were hardly an unbearable burden. Hulk looked down at Bruce and _grinned_. 

“Grab Thor,” Bruce said gently, “We may be able to get out of here.”

Hulk grabbed the body as gently as he could, and they made their way with Hulk hobbling on 3 limbs, Thor tucked protectively to his chest. The fog gradually subsided, although Bruce was unable to recognize anything. They came across the sign indicating that they were leaving the town and Bruce just snorted at the sight. 'Thank you for visiting' indeed. Whatever part of his brain was still working pointed out that this didn't make the least bit of sense, surely they were farther from the town line than that. The rest of his brain told it to shut up.

As they walked out of the town, the Hulk stiffened and dropped Thor. Bruce jerked around, terrified of what it could mean and his eyes widen as he saw the Hulk transforming, shrinking, his bones and muscles reforming. For a moment, Bruce was certain that Hulk was transforming into a human, and his brain simply shut down at the prospect. When the transformation ceased, Hulk had regained his regular form. The shackles simply slipped off his smaller form. He wrenched the collar off and savagely hurled it into the town.

A frightened scream drew both of their attention, and they saw a dumbfounded Captain America standing there, with a small boy huddling behind him.

A million questions passed through his mind, but what came out of his mouth was. “The others?”

Steve looked down, and that was answer enough. He turned around and started to run back, but was stopped by a giant green arm. 

“Stop,” Hulk growled out, “Safe.”

Steve walked over to them, the cowering child following him, apparently feeling it was safer to be behind Steve but closer to the Hulk than to be away from Steve.

“I don't think you'll be able to help them,” Steve said quietly, placing a hand on Bruce's shoulder, unable to meet his eye.

“It's up to them,” the boy added meekly, eyes leaping between Bruce and the Hulk, eyebrows knit in confusion and body quivering with fear.

* * *

 

Tony only got a few paces in the dark before his foot caught on  _something_ and he went flying, slamming to the jagged ground. He felt small cuts down the whole of his side. Nothing was broken, but he'd have a nasty bruise. He bit his tongue to hold back a yelp, praying that the fall hadn't been enough to draw the spiders.

A moment passed and he relaxed. At least in that respect he was safe. Too bad in every other respect he was well and truly fucked. He considered sitting up, but didn't see the point. He would never find the others again. Never find Bruce. This place wouldn't allow it.

_What was the point?_

In the end, he had been useless. His suit failed him, trapped him, and without it he was deadweight. At least Bruce had been able to build that compass, had been instrumental in their progress. What had he done?

For all his attempts to clean the blood from his hands, in the end he had only ended up killing more innocents and failing to save the day. Some hero.

All he could do was lay there and die. He couldn't even end his life in a dignified way, his only choice was to sit and wait to starve to death or for some tortured soul to stumble upon him and kill him. 

The glow on his chest caught his eye. No, there was an easy way to end this after all. His hand went to the glow, fingering the cool metal around it.

Tony sat up and shook his head. If Tony Stark was anything, he was stubborn. There was a chance his team was out there and he could help them. He would take that chance. Until his eyes adjusted to the dark, there was no use running blind again, though. Instead, he curled in on himself, leaning his forehead on his knees so his vision was filled with the gentle blue light. He just had to hold it together a little longer.

* * *

 

Natasha had never had any delusions about getting out of this mission alive. At first, certainly, but as soon as they walked down that staircase... 

Somehow, she had remained certain that they would succeed, though. The darkness fell and her teammates seemed to disappear, swallowed the way the flare light had been. She imagined she must have been moved, the scraping noise had disappeared. 

The panic from her free fall earlier began returning, it was impossible to get any bearings. Not only was it complete darkness, it was also completely silent, there was no wind, the smell was uniform and noxious. At least she had gravity. She dropped to her knees, palms on the ground, clinging to the only thing she had. 

She waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, eyes straining for any hint of light. Nothing came.

** The first signs of dehydration are headaches. **

_ agony pain torture _

The ground had no real landmarks that she had seen, there were no walls to follow. Even if she wanted to move, it would be incredibly slow going. She no longer had the compass, not that she could have seen it if she did. 

** Death by dehydration can take a week or longer. **

_help me i don't wanna die_

This place didn't follow the rules of the physical world. It was infinitely huge. It was possible she wasn't even at the bottom, she could stumble into another area of free fall. The thought sent a shudder down her spine.

** After a few days, hunger and thirst are no longer felt as the body adjusts to the lack. **

_don't wanna die like this alone all alone_

What would be accomplished by trying? The hate from this place permeated her being, she felt it in her bones. Now the darkness and smell of death surrounded her, pressing down on her. She felt herself crouching lower to the ground, as if her literal connection to the ground would help her stay emotionally grounded.

** Eventually, intravenous rehydration is necessary to reverse the process. **

_ so much suffering so much red all my fault _

This place would never allow her teammates to find her again, she was sure of that much. She had no way of finding her way to the source and, even if she did, what hope did she have of destroying it? 

She fingered her knife, taking comfort in it. It was a way out. One she didn't need just yet, though. She still had some rations, just enough to give her team a little more time to solve this. Natasha took a deep breath and returned her hand to the ground.

* * *

 

When the silence fell, Clint shouted to his teammates. He was sure they were shouting to him. If they were capable of it. He flicked his hearing aid up to its highest setting, which was far higher than civilian aids could go, and listened. He didn't hear anything. Clint frowned, kneeling down and clapping his hands. The sound should have bounced off the ground enough for him to hear it, but there was nothing. Clint shifted the hearing aid back down and touched his fingers to his neck, taking some comfort in his pulse. 

No one was going to bother looking for him. What good was an archer in the dark? What good was an archer with a bum hand and leg? He couldn't even make his way through the zero gravity, if he'd been alone he would've fallen short and died when the gravity kicked back in. For all the crap he'd given Bruce about being deadweight, Clint had been the worthless one.

_ Wait, what? _

Now he was trapped, alone, knowing his friends were likely to die and unable to do anything about it. Once again innocent blood was on his hands, and this time he didn't have the luxury of Loki to blame it on. He was too dangerous to be around people. All the dirty looks that SHIELD agents had shot him since the Chitauri invasion were deserved.

_ Were did THAT come from? _

Even if he managed to find them, managed to find the source, what could he possibly do? He was going to die here, might as well--

“Excuse me, who the _fuck_ are you?” Clint asked allowed.

_ Don't pretend that you-- _

Clint shook his head, “Yeah, shut up, okay? I'm thinking.” He stretched, rolling his eyes at whatever-it-was's attempt. Clint was no stranger to depression, or even to being suicidal. This place may be ranking as his worst mission ever, but it would take a hell of a lot more than a crappy mission to make him kill himself.

And he didn't appreciate having thoughts in his head. Not since...

“ _Son of a BITCH_.”

Clint grabbed his bow and arrow, creeping forward as swiftly as he could. Maybe if he could just get lucky this once, he could at least warn his teammates. 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't see this as a different interpretation of the Hulk/Bruce from Labyrinth. It fits many of the canons I've seen- Bruce chronically underestimates Hulk due to his own hatred of the "Other Guy", Hulk ultimately is a human mind.
> 
> Clint took me by surprise. I wasn't sure what to do with him and he kind of ran with it. In hindsight- it makes sense that he'd recognize Loki's methods of mind-screwing.
> 
> I'm not sure if I'll write another chapter to this. I know it still ends nebulously. I just... didn't like not having any insight to how the other Avengers handled being alone at the end.
> 
> The only area this may change from the original fic is whether or not Loki allowed Hulk to keep his mind.
> 
> (I've never played silent hill and know nothing about it, so... yeah, that's about it)


End file.
